


There and Back Again

by ChuchiOtaku



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen, Lordship and Noble Houses, M/M, Ron Weasley Angst, Ron Weasley-centric, Smart Ron Weasley, minor original characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:08:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28927080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChuchiOtaku/pseuds/ChuchiOtaku
Summary: TBA is now officially in AO3!Year 0: Ronald Weasley and The Wizarding WarJust when things appeared to be turning around, an unfortunate turn of events lands Ron from the Hogwarts battlefield to a strange place with only Snape, of all people, for company.  Because apparently, he is dead.  Or at least, very nearly there.But then Ron is given the chance to change his fate: accept death and move to the next great adventure, return to the world of the living at the height of the war, or go further back, for a chance to relive his life and save even more friends and innocents gone too soon.What will Ron choose? And what will be the price for his choice?(Hint: the tag says time travel. :winkwink:)
Relationships: Harry Potter & Sirius Black & Remus Lupin, Ron Weasley & Albus Dumbledore, Ron Weasley & Harry Potter & Hermione Granger & Neville Longbottom, Ron Weasley & Weasley Family, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 10
Kudos: 43





	1. Wizarding War - The Boy Who Died

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...The world seemingly slowed down, the sounds of spells and screams muted by the roar of anguish and desperation ringing in his ears, as he willed his legs to move, to do anything to reach his brother who was smiling without a care, not knowing the threat of death careening from above.
> 
> No, no, not now! Not when his family was finally together again! Not when they were so close to winning this damnable war!
> 
> "Fred!"
> 
> And then several things happened at once: Ron felt himself hit solid warmth that was quickly knocked out of the way, heard a loud grunt followed by a forceful slam of something hard, cold and heavy, blinding pain, smothering darkness and a chorus of terrified screams.
> 
> "RON!" ...

After some consideration (and, admittedly, procrastination), I have finally decided to post There and Back Again in AO3 as well. If any of you have read this in FF.net, you will know that this has lots of chapters ahead over there, but I plan to migrate the whole fanfic here as well. Hopefully, TBA will be able to catch up before the end of first quarter 2021.

Also, I plan to add artwork (like the HP novels) per chapter. I can do it myself, but it might take a while before I get anything decent done. If anyone would like to contribute, feel free to reach out to me by AO3, FF.net (Chuchi Otaku) or by Tumblr (chuchiotaku.tumblr.com). 

Thank you!

**General Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter in any shape or form. The honor goes to Ms. J.K. Rowling.**

* * *

For the first time in what felt like ages, Ron felt a surge of hope.

His situation was no less bleak than when the whole war began, of course, when the whole mess is in full, twisted swing. The Death Eaters are still relentless in their attack, and some part of his mind was aware of friends and acquaintances falling over like flies in the background. Even Hogwarts is crumbling apart from the destruction and death bombarding it on all sides.

But behind the death and gloom hanging in the air like a thick curtain were all important slivers of small triumphs.

They were finally turning things around. It may have nearly killed them in the process, but he, Harry and Hermione were finally able to destroy the horcrux in Ravenclaw's diadem. He and Hermione were able to destroy the horcrux in Hupplepuff's cup earlier as well. Now all they need is to kill that snake and Harry can finally beat You-Know-Who and end this stupid war!

Best of all, after years of estrangement and in the middle of the raging battle, the Weasley family was finally complete again.

When he first saw his older brother Percy stumbling into the Great Hall before them, a disbelieving Ron thought he had every right to feel righteously angry and cruelly smug, that, after all this time, just when his precious Ministry of Magic had all but crumbled to nothing would Percy come crawling back to the family he essentially abandoned, tail between his legs and begging for the forgiveness and acceptance he did not deserve.

But then, face to face with the Weasley's lost son, Ron felt none of those things, nothing but overwhelming relief and a touch of happiness. The stony wall that was his face will not betray it, but Ron was grateful that Percy had returned because, pompous git or not, he was family and if there's one thing Ron learned throughout all this is that you should never give up on family or the ones you love even if they made the most horrid mistakes.

Harry and Hermione taught him that much.

Besides, deep down, a huge part of Ron really did miss his older brother, posh talk, awkward know-it-all-isms and all that, just like the rest of his family. The easy way Fred and George shook off past hurts like it never happened proved it.

It was with a united front that the Weasleys are up and showing the Death Eaters who's boss, and by Merlin, Ron will do everything he can to make sure that nothing will break up his family—Harry and Hermione included—ever again.

Not if he had anything to say about it!

So when the sight of Death Eaters tearing past one of the walls of Hogwarts and coming for Percy and Fred came to view, Ron was quick to his feet, wand aloft.

_Stay away from my family, you sick motherfuckers!_

"STUPEFY!"

A jet of light zoomed past Fred's head, hitting a masked Death Eater square on the chest.

"Nice shot, Ronnie!" Fred, ever the tease even in the midst of a death defying battle, laughed as he raised his own wand at several opponents. "Relashio!"

"Come on!" Harry shouted after a quick hex on a couple of Death Eaters. "We have to move!"

"Go on! We'll hold them off!" From Ron's periphery, he saw Percy fire a couple of jinxes to one of their attackers. The hood slipped from the man's face as he reeled back from Percy's attack, revealing a long face and streaked hair.

 _Thicknesse!_ Ron snarled in recognition.

"Hello Minister!" Percy shouted over another neatly fired jinx straight to the man's chest. "Did I mention I'm resigning?"

"You're joking, Perce!" Fred shouted, struggling to stand after beating several Death Eaters at the price of three stunning spells to his limbs. He and Ron had to crack a grin at the sight of Thicknesse growing spines all over his body like a sea urchin. "You actually _are_ joking, Perce…I don't think I've heard you joke since you were—"

Then it happened.

Ron didn't know why, or how he knew where to look, other than it felt like a pull to the back of his neck when he saw it: a Death Eater aiming an unsteady wand with a roar of "Bombarda Maxima!"

The wand was so wobbly that it barely missed Fred, but to Ron's horror, the spell hit the wall right above his brother's head instead, and with a loud boom, the wall heaved.

The world seemingly slowed down, the sounds of spells and screams muted by the roar of anguish and desperation ringing in his ears, as he willed his legs to move, to do anything to reach his brother who was smiling without a care, not knowing the threat of death careening from above.

No, no, not now! Not when his family was finally together again! Not when they were so close to winning this damnable war!

"Fred!"

And then several things happened at once: Ron felt himself hit solid warmth that was quickly knocked out of the way, heard a loud grunt followed by a forceful slam of something hard, cold and heavy, blinding pain, smothering darkness and a chorus of terrified screams.

" _ **RON!** "_

* * *

The world, for some reason, was awfully quiet.

It was the first thing Ron became aware of as the consciousness ebbed back into his senses. He lying facedown, his body oddly light yet too weak to move and his cheek pressed against a smooth, cool surface that reminded him of marble.

Wait, marble?

"Weasley."

 _W—what?_ Ron's heart did a lurch at the familiar tone, flat and unfeeling. _That voice, it can't be…?_

The hem of black robes came to view just as Ron managed to roll off the floor into a sitting position to meet a pair of gazing twin dark pools. "S—Snape?!"

Right before Ron stood his old potions Professor who appeared quite different somehow. If anything, Snape looked a bit younger but there was no mistaking the perpetual scowl or the hard lines that came with it marring the sallow, gaunt face and greasy shoulder length black hair.

"The displeasure is mutual, Weasley, I can assure you." Severus Snape drawled, his voice now colored with obvious disdain.

"But, but what are you doing here?" Ron spluttered, unconsciously backing away from the tall bat-like man. "And where the bloody hell are we, anyway?"

"I would not know, Weasley, you tell me." Snape said curtly before his face curled to distaste. "And for Merlin's sake, put some clothes on!"

"What are you—?" It was then that Ron realized, looking down, that he was indeed naked. Right in front of Snape! Holy shit, what he wouldn't kill for even just a decent robe right about now.

But as quickly as he thought it, a simple red robe appeared out of nowhere, draping his shoulders. Bug eyed but not the one to question what was shielding what remained of his dignity, Ron quickly pulled it closer. "What the hell was that about?"

Snape sighed from his hooked nose. "We are in the recesses of your consciousness, you fool. Should you not know more about your own mind than me?"

"Consciousness? My own mind?" Ron echoed while turning his head, recognizing his surroundings for the first time, alternating squares of black and white as far as the eye can see with two stone doors and two rows of familiar statuesque pieces on either end. "Is this a chess set?"

"Your power of deduction is astounding." Snape answered dryly.

Ron ignored him. "But if we're in my head, then what are you doing here? You're one of the last people on Earth I'd ever want to dream about!"

"I said that this is within your own mind, Weasley, not that I was a part of it." Snape drawled. "As for why I am here, it is primarily because we share the same miserable state."

"The hell is that supposed to mean?"

Snape groaned. "Think, Weasley. Where are you really supposed to be?"

Ron frowned as he strained his mind to remember. _Where am I supposed to be? The last thing I remember was being in the Room of Requirement, finding the Diadem, the Fiendfyre, the Death Eaters, Percy and Fred…_

"FRED!" Ron cried out as the memories all came rushing back to him. "Bloody hell, Fred! The wall and that Death Eater—what happened?! I have to know if he's OK."

"Calm down, Weasley. Your brother is safe, considering the circumstances, which is more than I can say for you." Snape said coolly.

"He's…OK?"

"I don't like repeating myself, Weasley."

"Oh thank Merlin!" Ron said happily, again ignoring Snape's irritated snap. "For a minute, I thought I was too late. But not that I'm not happy about it, but that still doesn't explain why I'm here."

There was a pause before Snape replied. "You are here because unlike your brother, no one was able to save you."

Ron felt like he was dropped in a bucket of iced water. "What?"

"You were able to push him out of the way of the wall, but in turn, caused the debris to fall onto you instead." Snape elaborated, his voice uncharacteristically something akin to gentle. "Potter and your friends were able to retrieve you from the rubble, but by then it was far too late."

The air around them seemed to ripple, and then, before Ron, a scene flashed: Harry, Hermione and his brothers kneeling around Ron's fallen form caked with dust and crimson from a huge head wound, blue eyes fixed unseeingly to the sky.

The voices that came with the sight were garbled, but the emotion behind them was undeniable.

 _ **"No—no—no!"** _The anguish in Percy's voice made Ron's knees quake. _**"No! Ron! No!"**_

 _ **"Don't you dare do this, Ronnie!"**_ Fred—his strong, witty and at times cruelly mischievous brother—reduced to a sobbing, hysterical mess. _**"If this is one fucked up joke, I swear I'm going to—! Fuck it all, this can't be—"**_

Hermione was gripping Ron's cold hand with a wail not unlike that of a wounded animal's. And Harry, the hope of the Wizarding World who lost far too much for its sake, was far too still, wand clenched in his fist, his eyes shining but unyielding of their tears, seemingly unaware of the war erupting around them.

 _No, Harry, please!_ Ron found himself begging at his best friend's reflection. "Snap out of it, Harry! Get them out of here. There's nothing you can do for me but you can still save them! Get them out!"

Another loud boom pierced the air before Harry had seemingly heard Ron's pleas. _ **"Fred, Percy…we have to go. We can't do anything for him. We're going to—!"**_

 _ **"NO! We're not leaving him!"**_ Percy cried back. _**"Ronnie, oh Merlin, Ronnie, please—!"**_

 _ **"Stupefy!"**_ Hermione screamed, whipping her wand to fire at an incoming arcomantula. To the group's horror, more spiders came running out of the hole in the wall, all gigantic with jerky legs and flashing pincers.

 _ **"Let's move, NOW!"** _Ron watched dazedly as Harry pushed Hermione forward before dragging Ron's limp body by the armpits away from the fallen rock and giant spiders.

He watched with watery eyes as Percy and Fred helped Harry lay his body at a protected niche, watched as Percy laid a trembling hand on his face with a choked sob while Fred whirled around with an air of a raging bull looking for a target.

It took only a second.

 _ **"ROOKWOOD!"** _Fred roared, tearing off to the direction of the tall Death Eater at the distance, ignoring Hermione's cries, with Percy on his heels not a moment later. Both brothers' wands were at the ready and their eyes burning with a dangerous cacophony of rage and grief.

"NO! Damn it, Fred, Perce, you bloody prats!" Ron screamed in the reflection but to no avail. The last thing he saw was Percy and Fred firing hexes at the stunned Rookwood before the memory faded. Ron hardly noticed as he sank to the floor, arms around his trembling form, the horrid reality of his situation crushing at his very soul.

He was dead. Ronald Bilius Weasley was dead.

And he had never felt so barren of hope.

* * *

Soooo what do you all think? Should I continue the migration? Any comments/suggestions from you lovely people of AO3?

For my readers in FF.net, a huge thank you to you all! TBA would not have made it this far without your support.

Also, many thanks to my beta, **a.c.nelli** , for their invaluable help! But it will be a while before the chapters they beta-ed will be posted here.

(And for my Pendragon readers, the next chapter will be up soon. I promise. I'm working on it. Sorry for the delay. 🤦)

 **UP NEXT:**  
So Ron is dead, and stuck with Snape in the afterlife. Or is he? Two things that can be said: Snape isn't a happy camper, and fate is far from done with our favorite gangly redhead.


	2. Wizarding War - The Limbo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...I'm…dead?
> 
> Ron didn't know how long he had been on the ground, on all fours, mouth agape in wordless gasping. He wasn't aware of anything save for the one dreadful thought bouncing back and forth in his head.
> 
> I'm dead?
> 
> It wasn't that he was completely unprepared for the possibility. Granted, he was not the type to think over death and dying—or anything remotely deep, for that matter—, but considering that he was at war where the chances of dying were rather high, Ron had somewhat come into terms with it possibly happening.
> 
> Keyword being somewhat.
> 
> Life, however, had other ideas. And this, this by far, was one of the grandest it has had so far in the fuckiest uppest sense.
> 
> "How long are you planning to sit there gaping like a miserable fool, Weasley?"
> 
> I'm dead and stuck with Snivellus FUCKING Snape, of all people?! ...

Err, hi? It's been a while? *hides behind chair*

I deeply apologize for the delay for this chapter. For some reason, I developed a severe case of writer's block for this one and could not make it past the first two paragraphs for the longest time. Very bad Chuchi, I know, and I thank you guys for your patience with me on this one.

On a brighter note, many, many thanks to those who gave this story a try. I am truly honored and I hope you guys will love what's coming next. This next chapter will be rather long to make up for the months that have passed without an update. Once again, reviews and suggestions are highly appreciated.

Flames will be used to roast marshmallows for my s'mores.

* * *

_I'm…dead?_

Ron didn't know how long he had been on the ground, on all fours, mouth agape in wordless gasping. He wasn't aware of anything save for the one dreadful thought bouncing back and forth in his head.

_I'm dead?_

It wasn't that he was completely unprepared for the possibility. Granted, he was not the type to think over death and dying—or anything remotely deep, for that matter—, but considering that he was at war where the chances of dying were rather high, Ron had somewhat come into terms with it _possibly_ happening.

Keyword being somewhat.

Life, however, had other ideas. And this, _this_ by far, was one of the grandest it has had so far in the fuckiest uppest sense.

"How long are you planning to sit there gaping like a miserable fool, Weasley?"

_I'm dead and stuck with **Snivellus FUCKING Snape** , of all people?!_

That kicked Ron's infamous temper back into action. "Well, what were you expecting me to do? Break into a dance singing about rainbows and pygmy puffs?!"

But Snape merely stared stonily at the younger wizard, making Ron's face burn bright red with gnashed teeth at the lack of response. "I just found out I died, you greasy arsehole! Dead as a bloody doornail, without getting past eighteen and hardy worth anything!"

"Weasley—"

"I wanted to get a good job. I was gonna help everyone rebuild. I wanted to settle down with _her_!" Ron jabbed his index finger harshly at his former professor with each statement. "But because of your bloody war and that bastard of a half-blood Voldemort, I've lost all that and now my friends and family are still fighting while I'm stuck in this rut with _you_ of all people being an useless sod. An utterly. Absolutely. Useless. _SOD!_ "

A tense pause hung heavily in the air for too long before Ron turned away from Snape with a hand pressed to his scrunched up face and his burning eyes.

No he was not going to cry. He was not going to cry in front of the greasy old bat! He was a Gryffindor and a Weasley, goddamnit! And Gryffindors and Weasleys are never weak, snivelling crybabies—!

"Had enough yet, Weasley?"

Oh, Snape just gets off from being the world's biggest dickhead, doesn't he? Ron snarled darkly. "Why you—you one big son of a—!"

But the older man's wand was at his throat in a matter of seconds. "If you wish not to be hexed to oblivion then awaken in a full body bind, I suggest you keep that tongue of yours in check. I've been gracious enough to allow you your previous tantrum. Do not think that I would be willing to suffer another second of it."

"Do your worst, you bastard!" Ron growled back with every bit of fury he could muster. "As if there's something you can do that can change anything! You can't make me any worse off than I already am so go right ahead, you traitorous git!"

Blazing blue challenged bottomless black in what seemed like forever before Snape spoke again. "Then would you rather have it the other way?"

The almost softness in the other man's voice threw Ron for a loop. "H-huh?"

"You are here because you made the choice of saving your brother over watching him die." Snape clarified with a stony expression. "Are you beginning to regret that decision now? Would you rather have him here in your place so you could live that life you think this war has stolen from you?"

"What the hell? Of course not, I—!" At that, all of the fight seemingly banished from Ron's body.

That's right. Ron was dead and here because he saved Fred—the usually bloody insufferable yet incredibly witty, just as talented and at times, remarkably insightful and obnoxiously protective arse Fred. The guy may have been a right git to him for much of his life, but Fred was Ron's brother and Ron would give his life for any of his brothers in a heartbeat.

And, all things considered in hindsight and all honesty, Ron was sort of glad that it was him who died instead of Fred. Ron may have his own dreams and wants for a long life ahead, but Fred had what it took to reach further, do far more, than the youngest Weasley boy ever could…

SNAP!

Ron gasped when he felt the sharp slap of Snape's wand against his face. "OW! Hey, what—?!"

"Playing hero to save your brother may have been so utterly Gryffindor it is sickening, but you spitting on the very sacrifice you made is even more unbearably pathetic!" Snape cut in coldly, jabbing his wand back under Ron's chin. "You dove headfirst into this war as an of age fighter so at least show some iota of maturity! And instead of whining like a miserable child over what you have lost, open your eyes to what is around you. Then you might actually see what there is that you can still do something about."

Ron blinked owlishly then creased his eyebrows. "What I can—? Last time I checked, Snape, I'm already dead so unless there is something I can do down here that can somehow help everyone fight this war, then the most I can be is a ghost. And we both know how awfully useful ghosts are!"

 _But then again,_ an impish side of the red head piped up, _as a_ _ghost, I can float around like a Peeves exclusive to Death Eaters. I mean, I don't know if I can kill anyone, but at least I can make things harder for them. Prank them, chuck some dungbombs or something…_

"If you would reign that temper in, I might actually get to the point of why I am here in this abominable pit you call your mind." Snape snapped.

Ron was thrown for another loop. Right, that reminded him… "Wait, what ARE you doing here, anyway? If I wouldn't even want to dream about you, then you're not really the first person in my list who I'd want to see when I die." And to be honest, you're pretty much not there.

Snape snorted at that. "And if you haven't been busy throwing a fit over everything without waiting for an explanation, you might have noticed that I never said that you were actually dead."

Ron felt his chest twist so tightly that he felt that he couldn't breathe for a second. "What do you mean—? I'm not—I'm not—?"

"You are not dead, Weasley." Snape said after what felt like forever. "At least, not in the fullest sense of the word."

The marble hallway was so quiet that not even Ron's uneven breathing could be heard. But the younger wizard hardly noticed.

"I—I'm not dead?" Ron croaked, reduced to a gasping fit for the second time that hour. "I'm not—but how am I—? I saw—that time you showed me! The wall, I—I got Fred out! The wall fell on me! My head was leaking blood like a busted faucet and, hell, I wasn't even breathing! So how—?"

"When you are not running your mouth because of your atrocious temper, it will be because of your theatrics." If Snape were any less…Snape-ish, the man would have rolled his eyes at Ron's slipping and sliding jaw and shot up brows. "Have you ever thought that exerting more in controlling yourself and just listening may have worked for you better in the long run? That I may have gotten to my point sooner, for instance?"

Ron's cheeks immediately flared, both from anger and embarrassment. While he had to concede, grudgingly, that Snape had a point, does the guy really have to be such a dick about it?

 _Oh, right,_ _I forgot who I was talking to for a second._

"You are not truly dead, Weasley, but you are not fully alive either." Snape went on, seeing that Ron was properly chastised. "As you have just witnessed, you have known physical death. Have been for more than an hour, based on what I have seen. However, your soul is still tethered to your body, albeit barely. This place is a representation of both your subconscious and the limbo, or the realm where souls neither dead nor alive remain until they cross a side."

Ron blinked when Snape finished, more confused than ever. "Is that even possible? Can someone really end up being not being completely dead? Can it happen to anybody? Wait, does that mean you are not dead too?"

Snape pursed his lips, making Ron momentarily worried that the man wouldn't explain further. "…It does not happen as often as many would like, for this realm, and everything that falls under it, is governed by something not entirely magical."

"Which is?"

"Some, like us, would claim that it is Death. Others would call it a God, or even fate or destiny. But what can be agreed upon is that it is a higher being that rules over life, how long one lives as well as when and how he will ultimately end. Many wizards may try to defy It, but Its design is undeniable.

"However, there are rare instances wherein that which that very design is…altered." Snape paused almost dramatically. "Instances such as yours."

Ron started when Snape's gaze bore directly into his. "Err, what?"

"Simply put, it is not your time to die yet. If it is anyone's, it was your brother, Fred Weasley's." Snape continued, ignoring the angry cry from the younger wizard. "However, you took the fall for him. For some reason, that put such a huge upset in the higher being's will that It deemed to give you a form of a second chance."

A second chance? Ron felt the stirrings of hope in his chest. "You mean, I can—I can go back? I can really come back to life again?"

"Your soul will be permitted to return to your body as if it had never left." The ginger haired teen would have whooped with joy if not for Snape's following statement. "But it will not be without a price."

"Price?" Ron repeated, the smile building in his face immediately dropping at that.

Snape pointed, and Ron turned to see a heavy looking stone door beyond the white chess pieces. "That door will lead you back to the land of the living, but once you make that choice, It will demand a form of compensation. You have known death in this realm, therefore, in order for you to return to the living, someone else must take your place.

"In other words, you will come back to life, and Death will take the soul of the one who should have died all along."

"You mean Fred?!" Ron gasped, wheeling around to glare at Snape. "Like I'll let that happen! I died so that my brother wouldn't, remember? What makes you or It think that I'll be fine with Fred taking my place?"

"Even if it would mean truly dying?" Snape asked with an arched brow. "Were you not whining earlier about everything you have lost by being dead? This is an opportunity for you to get everything back, and if I know you Gryffindor fools, I am sure your brother would be a willing sacrifice, as it was he who was meant to die, after all."

Ron did not even need a moment to think it over.

The prospect of returning to life, to be with his friends and family again, to see to the dreams he long held onto, was absolutely tempting. But if it meant losing Fred in the process, then Ron would rather stay dead. Nothing would be worth losing any of his friends or family.

"You can tell Death, God, Fate or whoever the hell It is that he can take his offer for me to come back in exchange for Fred and shove it up where the sun doesn't shine." Ron snarled with another finger jab at Snape. "I'm not going back if it would mean killing off Fred and that's that! You and It will just have to put up with me raising hell among you dead people because I'm not going anywhere!"

The hall was quiet again, and Ron waited with bated breath for the inevitable of Snape (or even Death Itself) whisking him to the afterlife and forever bar him from seeing his loved ones again until it was time for them to cross over.

An excruciating standstill until Snape spoke.

"Do you recognize where we are? What your limbo has taken form of?"

Well, that was unexpected. Nevertheless, Ron answered. "Err, I think this is the hall for McGonagall's trial? Back in First Year, to protect the Philosopher's Stone?"

"Then you also recall that this hall has _two_ doors, correct?"

"Well, duh. The one beyond the white pieces is the exit and the other one's where we came from." Ron shrugged, eyeing Snape strangely. "Why are you asking?"

"For everyone who passes through the limbo, the room that manifests becomes symbolic of both a turning point in their lives and the choices available to them. There is this one…" Snape hesitated as his face morphed a particularly sour look.

"His limbo was in a form of a train station, and his two choices involve boarding the train that will lead him to the afterlife or cross the barrier to return to the land of the living. Those are his choices because his fate could go either way: it was his time to die, yet he is also free to return.

"But for your case, you also have two choices. The white door," Snape pointed to the stone archway behind Ron. "As it is your way forward to the present you have missed, would have returned you to the land of the living. It would have been the most likely option at first glance, but it is not the only one available."

"The door behind the black pieces?" Ron glanced to the door that had been in the past the way by which he, Harry and Hermione entered McGonagall's transfigured chessboard.

"I do not know where that door will lead." Snape confessed, making Ron's gaze turn back to him. "What I am certain is that that door will definitely not lead you to death. The limbo is also connected to other realities, much like how a trunk of a tree is still connected to all its branches.

"Though, theoretically, I would wager that that door would lead you…back."

"Back?" Ron echoed. "What do you mean back?"

"Use your head, Weasley." Snape snapped irritably. "If one door will lead you forward to the present, bypassing all the events that you have missed while you were dead, what can a door that does the opposite do?"

Ron scrunched his forehead in several seconds of thought before finally, _finally_ , something clicked. "W-wait, you can't mean—?"

"Of course, this is all merely theory. I have no way of proving what I have just said nor do I care enough to try." Snape waved a hand. "But for someone who has the chance to regain his life and even change certain things for the better, if you are half the reckless pighead that your friend Potter is, I don't see why you wouldn't try."

"Don't call Harry a pighead, you git!" Ron snapped as he crossed his arms. "And why should I trust you? For all you know, you could be leading me into a trap! Just like how you tricked Dumbledore back at that tower!"

Snape's expression clearly screamed 'What sort of idiot did you leave me to deal with, Death?' when he replied. "If you continue to distrust me, then that is your choice. Whether you pick your own death, your brother's or another path entirely is not my concern. I am merely a guide that for some reason, was thought to be most appropriate for you. Whichever allegiance I may have had during the war will matter little here. As you have mentioned, I cannot make you any more dead than you already are, seeing as we are both ghosts."

"So you're actually—?"

"Yes, Weasley, I am already dead. I have long come to terms with it, but if I had the chance to go back, if I had the opportunity you have now, even if the possibility is so close to non-existent," Snape's lips curled downwards. "A man with too many regrets and nothing to lose would have taken it."

As the black haired man took a moment to draw a ragged breath, Ron suddenly found himself seeing the Death Eater in a different light. Back in his Hogwarts days, Snape had been nothing more than a sour bully of a Potions professor who played favorites blatantly, obsessed over taking over the Defense Against the Dark Arts teaching position for ages and was horrible to Harry and his friends at any given opportunity.

Not to say that Ron had conveniently forgotten what a foul arse Snape had been, but seeing the usually stoic, hard-faced man's mask crumble the slightest bit for traces of grief, pain and—dare Ron say it—longing to ease through…

Maybe there was more to Snape than Ron previously thought. Still, that doesn't answer Ron's final question.

"So why are you helping me?" Ron managed to voice it out. "You said it wouldn't matter to you no matter what choice I make. Then why is it as if you're trying to convince me to take that other door?"

Snape eyed Ron carefully before grunting. "My reasons are my own, and I do not owe you any explanation for them. I will however suggest that you learn something from what I have been telling you thus far and think over your decision carefully, for I will not give you another opportunity to change your mind. Now make your choice, Ronald Weasley, and make sure that you will not regret it."

The young wizard closed his eyes momentarily and begun weighing his options. Screw what Snape thinks or actually trust the man who may be more than just the traitor who killed Dumbledore?

Death or a possible chance to change the future and possibly save lives?

To die a miserable hero's death or becoming something more?

Ron's feet moved on their own before he had fully grasped where he was headed, but made no move to stop them.

He had already made his decision, because Snape was right. And all things considered, this was really the only way to—

SCHING!

"Woah, what the—?!" Ron barely managed to back away when the black pawns drew their swords to block his way to the backdoor. "Snape!"

And the old greasy bat—damn him!—had the gall to sneer dryly. "While I applaud that you have _finally_ made a decision, I never said choosing that door would be that easy. After all, were you not initially on the white side of this board?"

Ron gulped when the reality of the statement hit him as he gazed warily at the black pieces, particularly their tall, sword bearing Queen.

"Bloody hell…"

* * *

Ehehe, you guys didn't think it would be that easy too, did you?

It might seem that this prologue appears rather dragging, but there is a method behind my madness. I'm hoping to teach Ron a lot of things over the course of this fanfic and this upcoming fight will be an opportunity to teach one of them. So what do you guys think? Am I doing OK so far? I'd love to hear your thoughts. Reviews are golden!

Also of note, I am not British. I do try my best to write out this fanfic with their culture and language in mind (time appropriate, of course), I may miss out on some things that may offend British sensibilities. I apologize for that and would love to be corrected about it, if knowledgeable readers have the time. If not, I hope you will bear with me. Again. *sweatdrop*

Hopefully, I won't take too long with the next chapter. Until then, I wish you guys all the best and many thanks again for reading!

UP NEXT: So, yes, Ron, choosing the road less taken has never been easy. But is he up to the challenge of sticking to his wands, so to speak, when his opponent has some mean tricks up Its sleeves? And who is Ron's opponent anyway? Also, what's this, Snape and Ron actually getting along...ish?


	3. Wizarding War- The Game with Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "—keeled over the pieces getting destroyed—"
> 
> The pieces! Ron's mind snapped into attention. He almost didn't look up from the fear that he would be seeing his white queen drag his poor friend's battered body across the board.
> 
> And was shaken out of his newly regained wits when he saw crumpled black marble instead.
> 
> So the bishop turned back…or was I just seeing things? Ron thought faintly.
> 
> Seeing things. Visions. Two bishops. Two different pieces. Two different visions.
> 
> A vision for every piece? Would some of the pieces turn into someone he knew as well before they…?
> 
> Wᴇ ʜᴀᴠᴇ sᴇᴇɴ ᴛʜɪɴᴇ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ. The voice boomed again in Ron's mind. Nᴏᴡ, sʜᴏᴡᴇᴛʜ ᴜs ᴛʜʏ sᴛʀᴇɴɢᴛʜ.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: I had this idea to combine the prologue arc into one chapter. But then I saw how long this chapter was.  
> Well there goes that idea. :)  
> Changed much of the Old English lines as well as the formatting. Apparently I can do it that way. Who would have thought? O_O (Note: search engines are your friend)  
> The format change for It's dialogue is a reference to something. I'll leave it to you all to figure that one out. 
> 
> Warnings: Some violent imagery, but nothing too gruesome, I reckon.

Ron was seven years old when Grandpa Weasley taught him to play chess.

It was like a rite of passage for all Weasleys to learn the game from their patriarch. But since his father was often busy with his job at the Ministry, among other things, the responsibility fell to Grandpa instead.

Ron had looked forward to it for years since the first time he saw Percy play against Bill when he was five. Everyone else told him he would be taught once he reached ten, a year before Hogwarts. Yet Grandpa taught him when he was merely seven. At the time, Ron had been ecstatic; but as he grew older, Ron began pondering why he was taught chess earlier.

As far as Ron could remember, he had always been in the background, never had a chance of standing out compared to his more talented and vibrant siblings.

So what made Grandpa think that Ron could learn chess earlier than the rest of the family? What made him think that Ron had what it takes to master the game?

(And he did. Splendidly, in fact. Didn't even take a year before no one in the family could beat Ron in the game again.)

What did Grandpa see that Ron himself—along with everyone else—did not?

"Weasley." Snape's voice drew him away from the warm memories of his grandfather. Instead, Ron was back in the cold marble hallway, his face inches away from the drawn swords of a tall black stone pawn.

_Oh right, this was going on._

"If you are going to spend another minute gawking like a brain damaged fool," Snape again. "I will resort to hexing every inch of your body into all the colors of the rainbow and, believe me, I will revel in every second of it."

"Sod off, bastard!" Ron snapped angrily, pointing an accusing finger at the greasy man. "Why the hell didn't you warn me about this? You knew this was going to happen, didn't you?"

"I wouldn't claim to know, but merely…anticipated, seeing as I have mentioned that you started off on the white side of the board." Snape answered smoothly, though he did wrinkle his nose at Ron's wild gesture.

"Still, a little warning would have been nice!"

"I fail to see how that could have changed anything. It will certainly not change the fact that you will have to play across. " said Snape. "Personally, I see this as a golden opportunity. Minerva and I may have had our differences, but I do not question that she is one of the greatest chess masters Hogwarts has known, second perhaps to only to Dumbledore himself.

"The idea that someone like you—in your first year, no less—could match wits with her and win, it is something I should see with my own eyes."

Ron bristled, ready for a tirade, but Snape ignored him in favor of walking off the chess board with a flourish of black robes.

"Try to give it some actual effort, Weasley," Snape finished, facing Ron with a twisted lip that appeared as smug as the older wizard sounded. "Or perhaps your previous victory was a mere fluke?"

"Arse." Ron hissed half-heartedly. In reality, the red head was worrying over the same train of thought.

Hermione once said that not a lot of wizards have an ounce of logic. But in chess, logic is needed by the pounds, and safe to say McGonagall had loads upon loads. Winning against her had taken every bit of his knowledge and experience in chess to plan three moves ahead, not including the number of contingencies behind contingencies for each possible opposing play. How he managed to keep track of all that while being burdened by the responsibility of keeping his friends safe and the knowledge that failing could mean Voldemort's resurrection was beyond the teen.

 _But somehow I have to do it all over again._ Ron thought, his gut twisting in unease. _I have to win this or else this is the end for me. I'd take me over Fred dying any day, sure, but it's not like I'm in a hurry to go myself…_

Ron walked nervously to the white side of the board, at the foot of the white king. "Uhm, hullo. Looks like I'll be fighting with you guys this time. So, err, no hard feelings for what happened years ago? If you guys actually remember that?"

Thankfully, all the white pieces inclined their heads in assent. Ron then swallowed the lump in his throat. "Right. So I need to take another piece's place, right? Then I guess I'll be…"

The red head scanned the white pieces momentarily, though he already knew what piece he'd choose. Ever since he learned to play, the knight has always claimed a special place in Ron's heart. There was something about its unique way of darting around the board and jumping over pieces that fascinated him, not to mention that a knight's image has always looked so cool.

But before Ron could choose _which_ knight to play as, the white king suddenly turned around and slid off the board.

"W—wait, what are you—?" Ron made a step, as if to stop the retreating king, when the stone piece turned to face him and raised its staff to tap its square. The teen doubled back in realization. "You've gotta be—! You—you want me to be the king?"

"Merlin's beard, Weasley, it cannot be any more apparent." Said Snape derisively, receiving a scowl from the red head in return. "Are you finally going to play or are you still planning to dawdle about it for all eternity?"

The red head sent a scowl but kept quiet. It's not that he doesn't have a point. Ron had to concede, chewing his bottom lip while hurriedly making his way to the white king's square.

He might as well get started. White always plays first in chess, after all.

Ron tapped his chin thoughtfully before calling out, "Pawn to E-4!"

A second passed before the appropriate pawn moved and slid to the ordered square. Another few passed before the black pieces—a fellow pawn—inched to meet Ron's.

Ron didn't miss a beat. "Pawn to D-4."

The minutes wore on as Ron directed his white pieces to position, opening space to set up his defenses while attempting to read where his opponent was planning to defend as well.

 _Since most of its major pieces from that part are already in play, the black's definitely going to castle from the king side._ Ron then winced when a black pawn moved forward, effectively blocking his white square bishop. _Well, two can play at that game._

"Bishop to H-6!"

The said piece seemed to take a moment longer than usual to move, and Ron couldn't blame it; technically, he was sending the bishop to _die_.

But it had to be done—one of the black bishops was poised to take an important square that could penetrate Ron's plan to castle and defend at the queen side. And if he moved right, it could also be an opportunity for Ron to crack the black side's own defense.

 _Now let's see if it will take the bait…_ Ron watched, the sound of ticking filling his head, before the black bishop turned to his own with a raised staff. The black piece hit its mark, and his poor white bishop had a huge chunk of marble blasted of its flank before it was pummeled to pieces.

Ron winced internally. That was way more violent than he had anticipated…

But when a particularly large block fell, a booming voice rang in his ears like a gong.

**Wᴇ ʜᴀᴠᴇ sᴇᴇɴ ᴛʜɪɴᴇ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ…**

Ron whipped his head around, a bemused croak lodged in his throat. "Wait, what? Who said—? Where did that—?"

**Aɴᴅ ɴᴏᴡ, ɪᴛ ɪs ᴏᴜʀs.**

Eerily light yet commanding, it would have made him think of You-Know-Who except the tone did not contain an obvious hint of malice.

And then came a flash of brilliant, eye burning light.

**" _Oooh, lookie at we have here, Gred!"_**

**" _Why, Forge, if it isn't—"_**

**" _Ickle Ronniekins, I reckon?"_**

**_Huh? Was that Fred? George? Ron was utterly confused, his eyes still dotted by whites and occasional spots. Wh—where are they? And why do they sound so…?_ **

**" _And what you got there, Ronnie?"_**

**" _Making a new friend?"_**

**_A wave of hurt and terror passed through Ron before he could even finish the thought, making the teen gasp and double over. He cupped a hand to his face upon feeling moisture on his cheek. Tears? Why was he crying, and didn't his face feel smaller, rounder, than it should be?_ **

**_And in front of him, with its many hairy limbs clicking pincers!_ **

**_His vision then decided to make a sudden comeback, and the white was replaced by a multitude of rolling, blinking black beads on top of gangling legs._ **

**" _Ah! Yaaagh!" Ron heard himself scream in terror. "Fred! George! Help! Help!"_**

**" _Aww come on, Ronnie!" Fred's shill jeering came from Ron's left. "Aren't you s'pose to be all grown up?"_**

**" _It's just an itsy bitsy spider!" Seconded George._**

**_NOOO! Ron felt his body curl all the way in, his hands covering his ears. Fred! George! Please just stop! His teddy. Oh Merlin, what had they done his teddy?!_ **

**" _Oi, no need to get your pants in a bunch, Ronnie! That ain't scary at all!"_**

**" _Unless he's a girl under those pants, eh?"_**

**" _Quite right, Forge!"_**

**"' _Cause there's no way a real boy's gonna be scared of a little spider!"_**

**_The hairy leg was crawling to Ron's front. Stop it!_ **

**_He could already hear the clicking pincers and the wet blinking of beady eyes. STOP IT!_ **

**_And Fred and George just kept laughing. Laughing at his tears. Laughing at his misery. Laughing at the joke they made out of him._ **

**" _Silly Ronnie! Itsy bitsy—"_**

**" _Crybaby Wonniekins—!"_**

**" _AHAHAHAAHAHAHA—!"_**

**_I SAID—!_ **

"—STOP!" Ron was barely able to catch himself from falling over the visual assault that had gone for only a moment, but it felt far too long.

 _A vision?_ Ron thought as he dry heaved. _No, it was a memory. When Fred and George turned my teddy into a spider. It was why I became so shite scared of spiders in the first place!_

_But why? It doesn't make sense! Where did that even come from?_

"Weasley!" Ron's head snapped up, meeting gazes with Snape on the other side of the board. The man's nostrils were flared and his eyes alight. But for some reason, Ron knew the man wasn't angry, or at least angry _at_ him. If anything, Snape actually looked…concerned?

Ron shook the thought off. It was as ridiculous as it sounded. "I—I'm fine, just got winded or something."

The game. Ron forced himself back to focus. Get your head back in the game, Ronald! It hasn't even started properly yet! "Queen to H-6!"

 _Whatever that was,_ Ron thought frantically, half mindedly registering his queen move to her designated square. _That memory, vision or something, it must have been a trick to throw me off! Fuck, as if chess wasn't hard enough on its own! But what could have triggered it in the first place?_

Ron didn't have to wait long to find out.

Because he was sure as hell that the queen had gone to attack the black bishop. But then all of a sudden, as quick as a blink, the tall imposing figure was replaced by a smaller, petite one. A very familiar figure who had taken a step back because of the lance sticking out of its chest.

Ron didn't even have time to gasp when shocked, tear-stained honey eyes met his shrunken blues.

"…WonWon?" And then the room was again filled with white.

**Smoke. It smelled of burnt flesh and something sharp and funny, like rubber.**

**The ground was a blur of gray, and the air, a cacophony of screams.**

**Long brown hair, a petite feminine figure marred with blood and torn flesh. Blank eyes staring to the ceiling. A face he knew far too well.**

" _Weasley!_ "

Ron screamed as soon as the vision was over, and this time he did fall to his knees with both hands clutching his head.

What _is_ this? What was happening to him?! Why is he having these visions?! Where were they coming from? And what happened to—?

"Get a hold of yourself, you foolish boy!" Ron's shaky gaze caught sight of Snape glowering from the side of the board, a hand curling against the side of wrinkled black robes.

"S—Snape…"

"This is the second time you dramatically could have keeled over the pieces getting destroyed! Do you really expect to win this game if you let a few visions bring you to your knees? "

"But L—Lavender!" Ron would have let that get under his skin, but he was too shocked and in denial about what he had just seen. "It was—she was the black bishop! Didn't you see? The queen, she—she stabbed Lavender right through the chest!"

That seemed to shut up Snape. When he spoke again, it was soft but still sharp. "Brown? The insufferable airheaded Gryffindor, just mauled by Greyback?"

"M-Mauled? By Greyback?"

"And dead soon after." Snape's reply was a bucket of ice down Ron's back. "Greyback attacked her during a moment of distraction. He wasn't transformed, but he was vicious enough to cause serious injuries."

 _Oh Merlin…_ Ron felt like he was going to throw up at the revelation. _Oh God, Lavender._

While it was true that Ron regretted dating her, he still found her to be a nice enough girl. She had been funny and sweet, albeit in a weird, clingy sort of way, and was the first in a long time to actually value his thoughts and feelings (long, uncomfortable discussions about them aside).

But now she was dead. Dead both in the real world and this chess game turning into a hellish nightmare. Dead in a gruesome manner that she certainly did not deserve.

The image of her chest bloodied by the stone lance that went right through her. The bloodied lips that called out to him in a tone so confused and pained that he may as well have been the one who had stabbed her.

"— _keeled over the pieces getting destroyed—"_

 _The pieces!_ Ron's mind snapped into attention. He almost didn't look up from the fear that he would be seeing his white queen drag his poor friend's battered body across the board.

And was shaken out of his newly regained wits when he saw crumpled black marble instead.

 _So the bishop turned back…or was I just seeing things?_ Ron thought faintly.

Seeing things. Visions. Two bishops. Two different pieces. Two different visions.

A vision for every piece? Would some of the pieces turn into someone he knew as well before they…?

 **Wᴇ ʜᴀᴠᴇ sᴇᴇɴ ᴛʜɪɴᴇ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ.** The voice boomed again in Ron's mind. **Nᴏᴡ, sʜᴏᴡᴇᴛʜ ᴜs ᴛʜʏ sᴛʀᴇɴɢᴛʜ.**

* * *

Minutes later, when the game was becoming decidedly heated, Ron would find out just how badly the chess match wanted to have him fucked in the head.

It took several more destroyed pieces for Ron to figure out the pattern. Every white piece destroyed brought back a painful memory of either a raging insecurity or a terrible mistake.

**" _Did you see—?" "Yeah, I saw him. He's right next to that kid with the red hair." "Who cares about THAT kid? Just tell me all about Harry Potter!"_**

**" _Red hair? Freckles? Another Weasley? Your brother, Bill—Head Boy once—wonderful student, good head on his shoulders. And Charlie Weasley? Best seeker Gryffindor's had in a while, err—what was your name again?"_**

Each memory took hold of his heart as if he was living right at that very moment, forcing the shame, anguish and self-depreciation to the fore as if the past was all brand new.

But the visions that came with fallen black pieces were worse—they were of those who have fallen before and after him during the Battle of Hogwarts. The worst part was that, without fail, the black ones would transform into the victims in his visions before they were cruelly hacked away by the unfeeling white pieces.

Their last words burrowed so deep like acid into his veins he could still hear them long after their bloodied visages faded away.

Ron would have thrown up all of his insides if he could at the mass of dead friends and allies that he had come to find out through the visions.

**Colin Creevey, mousy brown hair dotted with blood and grime, small and lonely in death.**

" **Did I do good, Ron?"** **A trembling smile and a bloody thumb up even after being pummeled by a pawn's blade.**

**Cormac McLaggen, ironically crushed by a Quaffle goal post thrown by a raging giant.**

" **NO! NO! I DON'T WANNA DIE! I DON'T WANNA—! MUUUUMMY!"**

"Rook to D-4!" Ron managed to cry out despite the pounding in his head. Not only were these visions mentally and emotionally draining, but they also caused the worst headaches. How many times had he nearly fallen over in exhaustion and pain, only to come back to play because of his determination to live and, unbelievably, Snape snapping him awake?

The headaches and the emotional toll the game was forcing onto him was botching his concentration so horribly that he already had a few slip ups earlier, making him lose some material and precious useful squares in the process. Ron did his best to cut back the losses, but from experience, most of the times a set up mistake in chess was one mistake too many.

And because of his mistakes, he had to make more sacrifices for his new strategy.

 _Oh Merlin and Morgana shagging in a handbasket!_ Anticipating another vision, Ron swallowed as the black side took the bait once more. The black pawn cut away Ron's rook, and with it came more visions.

**" _Oh thank goodness! Thank goodness you're all right!" Arthur and Molly came rushing over to greet Harry, even Hermione, in relief that they hadn't been hurt during the World Cup fiasco. Ron stood from the distance, open armed, burning with embarrassment over the hug he should not have expected he'd get._**

"Motherfuck—" Tears burned at Ron's eyes when the last of the vision faded away. Whoever is digging up these memories really have it bad for him. Want to drive him barmy before he could win this game fair and square?

Why did it have to bring that up? Ron wanted to scream and sob, biting on his lip so hard he could taste iron. I'm the least loved. I know it. I get it. Why does everyone have to keep rubbing it in? Isn't it enough that it's already true?

" _Least loved by a mother who craved for a daughter…"_

"Rook to E-7!" Ron roared out in frustration and anger, angrily swiping at his eyes burning with blue fire. I'm not going to lose. I can't lose. Goddamnit, I'm not going to lose!

But still the pieces won't stop falling.

**" _Ron, you insensitive, pea brained prat!" Hermione was practically spitting with rage. "You really think Harry, our HARRY, of all people, would do something as stupid as put his name in the Goblet just for attention? For someone who's supposed to be his best friend, you're acting like you don't know him at all! Or a completely selfish idiot! Even both!"_**

**Lupin, defeated by Dolohov's Killing Curse before he had a chance to raise his son.**

" **Ron"** **A bloodied Remus gave him a sad smile shortly before the white knight crushed his face under a steeled hoof.** **"Take care… of Teddy…"**

_**"Hey, Hermione, I've got a—!"  
"Not now, Ron we still got this spell to do for class tomorrow, remember?"  
"But—! Oi, Harry, I think I—"  
"Later, Ron. We still need to get this spell down too! I need to focus!"  
"I've been trying to tell you guys, I've figured it—!"  
"That's it! Harry, I can't believe I missed something so obvious about this spell!" Hermione interrupted Ron again, pointing at a page about the spell they had been working on for Defense. "We should have done it like this…"  
"Wow, Hermione! That's brilliant. Of course you'd be the first to figure it out!" Harry beamed so brightly that he missed Ron's face twisting in hurt, the red head's book flipped open on the exact same page Hermione had shown them just moments ago.** _

**Tonks, fueled by desperation and grief, meeting her end in the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange.**

**"Teddy…oh my Teddy." Tonk's eyes were glazed as she reached out a cut up hand to Ron. "My sweet baby boy…"**

**A yellow robed girl with long, plaited hair, pinned and stabbed to death by an Arcomantula before Hannah Abbot and Professor Sprout's combined efforts managed to kill the beast.**

**"I don't want to die. *urgh* Please don't let me *pluhk* die. Hannah. *clob* Professor *thwack* Any…one…"**

Ron blinked blearily from his position on the floor, his strength nearly completely sapped. He was pouring all of his effort into maintaining a clear sight of the rest of the board to even bother to stand.

Yet another fallen piece from Ron's side forced another vision into him.

**" _Mummy! Mummy, I'm bored! Can you come play?"  
"Not now, dear. I'm teaching your sister how to cook!"  
"Dad?"  
"So sorry, Ron, business to do at the back!"  
"Err, Fred, George?"  
"No can do, Ronniekins. We're kinda busy—"  
"Got, eh, stuff to plan that can't plan themselves?"  
"P-Perce—?"  
"I'm afraid I have some reading to do, Ron. Later, perhaps?"  
For a crowed home in a small Burrow, little Ronnie, holding some old toys and a folded chessboard, felt awkward and all alone._**

**A boy crushed by a pillar from waist down, brown hair and freckles painfully similar to Colin's.**

**"Big brother…" The freckled boy would choke out with his last breath. "Colin, help me. I…I'm sca…"**

**Ernie Macmillan fell into the moat and drowned despite brave Justin Finch-Fletchey's efforts to save him. Several other bodies were at the water as well—students, adults, and the familiar face of pitiful Winky.**

**"It wasn't supposed to be…like this." Ernie choked over a gush of blood as he fell to his knees, a knight's sword sticking out of his gut. "Wh—why? Why—?"**

**" _Merlin, Ron, sod off!" Ginny slapping his hand away. "Just because your love life is shite doesn't mean mine has to be! Didn't I tell you to grow up and leave me alone?!"  
"I'm just trying to—!"  
"I don't need your protecting! Not from a berk with an emotional range of a teaspoon! It's a wonder Harry and Hermione can stand being around you! Sometimes, I don't even know what they see in you in the first place! Because a prat like you, you definitely do not deserve them!"_**

The pain was building from inside his skull now, filling it with the feeling that his brain could explode at any time. There was just too much…too many visions. He was dead yet he felt like dying a slow painful death all over again.

 _Grow a backbone, Weasley!_ Ron hissed to himself, forcing his body to at least a kneeling position. _You set your mind on that second chance of yours. By God, you better fucking finish something you've started for once in your life—!_

But then the black queen went to D-5, shattering Ron's white pawn in its wake.

**" _You're really going to do this? You'd go side with Fudge over us?" Ron's fist shook with anger and hurt. "We're your family, Percy! We are your family!"  
"And what, you expect me to side with you and Dumbledore like a blind lamb? Minister Fudge, everyone at work—they believe in me! They gave me a chance to prove my worth and made me feel like I belong somewhere! And that's more than what any of you have ever done for me!"  
"You can't actually believe—!"  
Percy's eyes, brimming with tears of pain and the fire of a betrayed. "And you, I thought you would be different. I thought we would have something in common. That we could really be brothers!"  
"We ARE! I—I am—!"  
"But you're just like everyone else! You want to be one of them, the same way you wish you would never have anything to do with me!" An accusing finger shushed Ron's protests. "Admit it! You never wanted me around! Every time I reach out to you, you push me away! Every time I tried to be there for you, you'd rather it be another brother! IF YOU'RE REALLY A GRYFFINDOR, THEN AT LEAST HAVE THE BALLS TO ADMIT THAT YOU WISH WE NEVER WERE!"  
"No, that's not—!" The righteous anger became mixed with shame and regret. In hindsight, maybe his wavering stutter was all the answer Percy needed.  
"Perce? Perce! Perce, wait! No, come back!" A crack in the blowing wind, and Ronnie was once again alone. "PERCY!"_**

"R-Rook to E7…" Ron's rook takes out the last enemy bishop standing with decisive force.

**Penelope Clearwater, whose body was lacerated in several places including the neck, by cutting curses, while defending a blonde girl wearing Slytherin robes.**

**"Perce, he…" Curly blonde hair obscured most of her face, but the cloudy grey eyes caught Ron's anyway. "Oh Ron, he loved you so. Please tell him… I always will…"**

The black queen crushed the pawn in D5.

Ron's stomach lurched. NO!

**" _Look at them." The locket's voice slithered unbidden. "Look at your friends, huddled so close without you. They fit so well together. What do you add to their circle that they cannot find for themselves? What do you have to offer? What would a child least loved even by his own family, could hope to gain from anyone else?"_**

**" _Least loved by a mother who craved for a daughter."_**

"Rook. Rook to B7!"

Oh God, why did he think he can do this? The locket was right: what did he have to offer? He wasn't the smart or the strong one. He wasn't the brave or the talented hero. He was just Ron Weasley: the sidekick, the afterthought who just happened to be good at chess.

But now even his talents in chess were getting him nowhere, because his glaring flaws in every other aspect were ruining everything.

Too hot tempered. Too thick headed. Too prejudiced. Too much of anything but good.

The white castle's mace was aloft, menacing in its pose despite being three heads shorter than the black bishop. But when the mace swung, the other piece's form rippled in Ron's vision like water. And when the attack hit, the image turned into the thin, worn out form of a very familiar teenager—one that made Ron's heart squeeze in terror and stole his breath away in denial.

 _No…_ Unruly black hair shook from side to side, blood dripping out of the head wound.

 _No!_ Emerald green eyes hazed with pain morphed into surprise when they caught sight of him.

"Ron…" The mirage of Harry Potter whispered, voice heavy with guilt, regret and for some unfathomable reason, relief, even as the white rook moved its mace again.

_Harry. Oh Merlin, Harry!_

His best friend—his first true and treasured friend—smiled sadly. "I'm sorry."

The mace fell. Ron's vision was again blurred away.

**And the world was a sea of darkness, trees and a dark robed mob. Some were drawn, others were huddled and shaking. In their ranks, a familiar half giant twisting against his bonds, screaming in protest and tangible terror.**

**The giant snake's hissing as venomous as her poison. A mad woman on her knees before her God with the tenderness of a lover.**

" **Harry Potter…" The cold, apathetic voice of Voldemort rose above the tense silence, a bony hand with the Elder wand. "The Boy Who Lived…"**

**The battered youth shut his eyes without an ounce of fight.**

" **AVADA KEDAVRA!"**

"NOOOO! _HARRY!_ " The red head held out his arm to reach for his friend. But the visage of the black-haired teen fell away just as the vision ended, and only the crumpled block of black marble remained.

Tears poured down Ron's dusty face, drawn with disbelief, as the white pawn carted the black bishop's broken body away. "He can't be dead. There's no way—that can't be real! There's no way he can be dead! That's not how it's supposed to be!"

"Weasley—"

"HE CAN'T BE DEAD, MERLIN FUCKING DAMN IT!" roared Ron at Snape who remained perpetually still. "He was Harry Effing Potter! The Boy Who Lived! Our hope! The Wizarding World's best shot against that undead son of a bitch! He was supposed to kick Voldemort's rotten arse to kingdom come in a blaze of glory! Not—not just waltz into Death Eater grounds and take an Avada Kedavra with open arms!"

"And yet he has." said Snape coldly. "You have witnessed it yourself. Potter presented himself to the Dark Lord, a sacrifice who came to terms with his fate. He knew he had to die and did so willingly. As he was supposed to."

"Supposed to?!" Ron felt his ears burn and his fists clench. "How dare you—!"

"A part of Voldemort's soul is within him, that is why."

The wind was cruelly ripped out of Ron's sails at those words. "Wh—what?"

Snape let out a snort. "I do not see the need for secrecy anymore, since everything has gone to Albus' plan. Well, almost everything."

"But—but you're the one who killed Professor Dumbledore!"

"On his orders, though I will not say that I fully understand why." At that, the older man looked a tad bitter. "Albus always kept his secrets closer than most."

Ron's throat felt oddly thick. "So Dumbledore, he wanted to die?"

"He was on the verge of death." Snape replied. "He had allowed a curse upon himself, and I was only able to delay its progress, just enough time for him to put his affairs in order. You, Potter and Granger were on the center of it, of course. But I, I was something of his executor in his plan for the Dark Lord's ultimate demise."

"And was the attack, back in Privet Drive, part of his plan too?" The red head asked sharply. "What happened to George?"

"It was necessary, for me to maintain my cover with the Dark Lord. Everything else that happened…" Snape let out a tired sigh. "Albus did have some form of safeguard planned. Did you really think Fletcher would have come up with the plan of using Polyjuice as part of your escape on his own?"

Ron inhaled sharply at that. With the chaos going on at the time of Harry's flight from his old house, no one really had the time to think too hard on that. "Imperio?"

"No, I Confunded him. So easy it had almost been laughable."

The pieces flitted into Ron's mind as if they had been Accio-ed in place. The sword. The one in Bellatrix's vault was a fake. The sword should have been at Hogwarts before then, Snape was the Headmaster. "And the sword? The one Harry got from the lake? The doe patronus?"

Snape's face tightened for a moment. "The Dark Lord could not know of my involvement, that I was helping you and Albus. And we both know that you would not trust me enough had you known the sword had come from me."

"The Carrows?"

"Again, it was all part of the plan. Would you rather have, say, Dolohov or one of the Lestranges in my stead? I can assure you, they would be far less…merciful."

The more Snape said, the more it made sense to Ron. Snape was good enough an actor and Occlumens to fool both sides. From a tactical standpoint, it was a brilliant plan: to keep everyone guessing, make himself the bad guy to play the spy while helping Harry in the background, with only Dumbledore being the wiser.

But from the point of view of a pawn (and Ron had no doubt, at this point, that that was all he and even Snape was in Dumbledore's head at the moment), it was a bitter pill to swallow. Harry had been resentful of how reticent Dumbledore was, and though Ron was inclined to sympathize, the red head didn't understand enough to feel strongly about the subject.

But now that Ron himself was face to face with downright callous—there was no better word for it—manipulation, and with Snape bearing the brunt of it…

"Why?"

"Why what?"

Ron's blue eyes bored into Snape's black ones. "Why did you let him do that to you? What was in it for you? You were fighting with us, you were helping us. Even when we thought you were just another Death Eater."

"Aren't you more curious as to why Potter had to die?"

"Yeah, there's that too. But from what I know about Horcruxes, I think I mostly get it. But you…" The thought that Dumbledore had something over Snape's head made Ron really uncomfortable. The man had been a prat, a horrid bully, yet he was brave enough to be in the same room as Voldemort, to stomach Death Eater atrocities while actually fighting for the Headmaster side.

"And you think I will just come out and tell you?" Snape's voice lowered a pitch, cold and cutting, but Ron didn't waver in his gaze.

The Potions Master grunted. "A fragment of Voldemort's soul—unstable as it already was—broke away and latched onto Potter, being the only living thing in Godric's Hollow that night. That fragment remained in Potter, giving him Parselmouth ability and a connection to the Dark Lord's mind. In return, as long as Potter lives with that soul fragment within him, the Dark Lord cannot truly die.

"Albus emphasized on the importance that Potter knew all about this in the right moment, and that Potter must die at the Dark Lord's hand. The right moment, according to him, was when Voldemort will come to fear for his snake, Nagini, which happened a few days before the battle at Hogwarts. The snake who once had free reign over Death Eater territory now hardly left the Dark Lord's side, and I have caught him more than once mumbling about the need to keep Nagini safe. He gave no indication as to why. I can only guess that it had something to do with what Dumbledore had sent you three to do after his death."

"The hunt for the horcruxes." Ron didn't think it should be a secret anymore either. At Snape's furrowing brow, the teen went on. "Objects that have pieces of Voldemort's soul in them. They're meant to turn him into this sort of immortal by keeping him into this world even after he's died. That will only work obviously as long as the Horcruxes are still in one piece."

Snape hummed in acknowledgment. "And the fact that the Dark Lord has become fearful for the life of his pet…"

"It's because we've destroyed almost all of them. Riddle's Diary. The Gaunt Ring. Slytherin's locket. Ravenclaw's diadem. Hufflepuff's cup. Never would have thought there could be a living Horcrux, let alone Harry actually being one." Ron paused for a breath. "But why does Harry have to die by Voldemort? The other horcruxes didn't have to be destroyed by the bastard himself."

"Albus said it is something between Potter and him every time I asked in the past. But he managed to tell me, shortly before his death, that it would mean Potter doing for all of you…what Lily did for him."

Lily? Ron blinked. "You mean Lily Potter? Harry's mum?"

A myriad of emotions flitted on Snape's face at her name. Emotions Ron was painfully familiar with. "Lily…since my early childhood, she was the only constant goodness I have had. Even at times when we were at odds with each other, she stood by me, more than anyone else in my life had. Until that day I pushed her away. I wager Potter has already told you, what he has seen in my Pensive? That day the Marauders by the lake? I called her Mudblood then, and it had been the final straw."

The red head blinked for a moment to jog his memory. Yes, Harry did speak of it at some point. For Ron, it was just another item in "Why Snape is a bastard" list. But hearing the tangible pain and regret in Snape's voice as he spoke of it. "Err, did you ever try to say that you're sorry?"

"Countless times, but she no longer believed me. She thought I did not see her any different from the other muggleborns I have slurred. I did not give her any further reason to question the claim. Though I may have lost her friendship, I never…forgot, even when I became a full-fledged Death Eater. She was my friend, like a sister, and there was a time I wished we had more.

"But being dead gives one a clearer hindsight: I did not love her enough to see the light she did. Whatever I felt for her was not enough to stop me from hurting her or the ones she cared for. It did not stop me from hating the one she died for.

"Before I left Hogwarts and I took the Mark, I thought I was doing what was right. That all I needed to live was to be feared and undefeated. But now, here, all I want is to reverse the flow of time, so I can go back and hex that foolish boy that I was to his senses."

**_But if I had a chance to go back…a man with too many regrets and nothing to lose would have taken it._ "**

"Love," the Potions Master went on. "Albus kept touting the importance of it enough to make anyone sick of the word. But it makes sense in ways logic and magic cannot fully express. Lily died out of love for her son, and it became his protection. If Potter were to do the same, with all of you in mind, I would guess that his protection will be with the ones he left behind. And if Albus' theory is correct, Potter's death in Voldemort's hands is what will sever his connection with the soul fragment for good."

"But at what cost?" Ron's fist clenched in righteous anger. "So many people are dead. Harry's dead."

"War was never without cost, Weasley. More had died in the first war, and in much more gruesome ways."

"But Harry! Harry was never supposed to! After everything he has been through! The bloke deserved a normal life free from that monster. But he has to give it up for everyone? How is that bloody fair?!"

"Life hardly is."

"Then what is all this for?! I wanted to go back so I can help Harry fight that son of a bitch! I wanted to go back so I can make everything right and live until I'm old and gray like I've always wanted! But if I do get to go back, I'll have to live with knowing that Harry has to die for us to win! What's the point of going back if this is how it's supposed to go all over again?!"

"And if you keep thinking that way, then you remain a fool!" Snape raised his voice, making Ron take a step back. "Didn't you yourself tell Potter that the war is not just about him and the Dark Lord? Are you going to let your goal to save as much lives as you can die out because of just one boy? Do you think the self-sacrificing fool that Potter is would have wanted that?"

Ron's insides froze on the last statement with the familiar chill of guilt and shame. Snape's right. You would have wanted me to go back, wouldn't you, Harry? Even if it meant you would die, if it meant going back to save Remus, Sirius, and even Dumbledore.

"And you. You have your second chance, Weasley." Snape cut in to Ron's thoughts again. "More than just to save lives, you have a chance to redeem yourself. They call you a presumptuous coward with an emotional range of a teaspoon, but you know you have more depth than that. Your memories prove it. What you lack is drive, possessing merely half-hearted motivation. And unless you apply yourself, even if you do get to win this game, you will end up making the same mistakes all over again."

Ron's jaw slackened in shock over Snape's choice of words and their implications. Those personally cutting words from the past that scarred, the only way the older man would have known of them in such a precise manner was…

Snape sighed heavily. Obviously, Ron's expression gave it all away. "I have told you of this already. How do you think I know that you keep dramatically falling over because of your visions?"

The poor teen's ears turned paper white to brick red. "You…you saw all that?!"

The hooked nose man's lips curled, whether out of disgust or—heaven forbid—amusement, Ron' couldn't be sure. "More than I will ever be comfortable with knowing."

"Well that's just…" Ron buried his head into his hands. "This can't get any worse, can it?"

"That is tempting fate."

"No, at this point, chances are I'm just stating a fact." Ron massaged his temples, then a thought came to him. "Is that why you just came out and told me about you and Harry's mum?"

Snape met Ron's scrutinizing gaze with a quiet but pointed look until Ron let out a breath. "I guess it wouldn't matter either way, huh?"

"You're actually learning," came Snape's dry response, a comment that would have gotten a rise, or at least a snarky comeback, but now only made Ron nod thoughtfully. "Eh, Hermione always did say I was slow on the uptake."

It was strange. At first, it didn't make sense that Snape of all people would become his guide in this strange test. Not was their connection remote at best, but whatever relationship they may have had was grounded by mutual animosity. But then Snape had seen the deepest, darkest sides of him that no one ever had. And Ron learned more about his old professor through the man himself, enough for the teen to rethink.

"You're right." Ron said in a tone far stronger than when he first begun the chess game. "I said it before, this war isn't just about Harry anymore. It's about saving all those people who died because of the undead bastard who can go shag himself to hell! It's about not letting those bigoted pureblood screwheads prance all over the world as if their shit doesn't stink!

"So maybe being in a war means that I won't be able to save everyone, but," The faces of all the Weasleys, his friends, everyone he remembered flashed in quick succession. "Even if I have to fall and get up, then fall and get up all over again, I'll be damned if I don't at least try!"

A hush fell in the hall like a long drawn moment of agony, before Snape waved with a swish of black robes. "Then, I believe, Weasley, it is your move."

Ron's head swiveled to see that the black queen from D-4 had already inched a diagonal square forward. Huh. So whoever the hell It was obviously wasn't in a hurry to finish the game if It let all that play out.

But enough of that. Ron Weasley had a game to win. "Queen to F-6!"

The black king moved to crush the white pawn below it after Ron's queen moved. Another vision came hurtling in, but this time, Ron didn't crumble like broken stone.

**" _Why return?" Riddle-Harry hissed, sounding so much like its counterpart. "We were better without you, happier without you."_**

**" _Presumption!" That was Riddle-Hermione, horrifyingly lovelier than the real one. "Who could look at you? What are you, compared to the Boy Who Lived?"_**

Ron's mind, however, was aflame. The visions still hurt like a white-hot lance, but there was a mantra now that blanketed his mind like a burning, protective wall. "Pawn to C-3!"

There was the sound of grinding stone before same pawn would fall again to the black king.

**" _Just thought you'd coming nosing around, did you?" Harry had shouted at him in anger, and that in turn made Ron angry. Just when he had been worried Harry hadn't come back to the dorm yet. Just when Ron stayed up all night waiting to make sure Harry did. Just when he mustered the courage to finally talk to him._**

**_But a different exchange happened, and a badge was thrown to his forehead instead. "You might even have a scar now, if you're lucky…That's what you want, isn't it?"_ **

**_No. What Ron wanted was to apologize. What Ron wanted was his best friend back. But Ron was also coward. Ron was also hot tempered._ **

**_And above all else, Ron, who just stood and stared at the spot Harry left, was also an idiot._ **

It doesn't matter anymore, even if Ron will always be second place or the least loved. That was probably going to be his lot for the rest of his life. But this war, this chess game, was not just about him. If Harry can give himself up no matter how much it hurt for the greater good, then Ron owed it to his best friend to do the same.

"Queen to A-1!" The orders flew from Ron's lips as hard as the white marble of his pieces. "Bishop to F-1!"

A black rook destroyed Ron's last rook several moves later, leaving Ron with barely more than a handful left.

**_I left them. Ron thought morosely after Bill warmly let him into Shell Cottage._ **

**_I left them. Ron thought morosely over the steaming bowl of soup and bread Fleur set on the table._ **

**_I left them. Ron thought morosely when the couple fell silent after his explanation, when Fleur gently led him to a guestroom and Bill tucked him in, smoothing his hair as if he were a child once more._ **

**_They didn't have to say anything, but Ron knew they saw the truth. They didn't have to show it, but Ron knew they were disgusted._ **

**_I left them. Ron thought morosely, eyes wet and burning under the blanket where he still felt so very cold. I really am worthless._ **

But Ron retaliated not long after, taking down a few more pieces including the black queen.

**A blonde Slytherin girl, the same one from earlier, helping an injured student to safety when a rogue cutting curse went straight through her chest.**

**"So this…is to be my fate?" Despite his bishop's repeated beatings with its cane, the bloodied blonde was smiling, albeit sadly. "Father…Mother…Astoria…Forgive me…"**

**Another boy—dark haired, high cheekbones and fair skinned— in green robes, mouth agape, victim of a stray Killing Curse.**

**"Let the world know…" The boy's eyes were glaring at something beyond Ron. "The Nott…who will bow…to no master…"**

Two more dead faces, ones without names but no less important. They became part of the kindle and it drove him forward. Going through the board with his handful of white pieces with a mission, Ron felt empowered. He was going back to save them. Anyone who fell in this war and before that. Everyone he could. He will probably not remember all of their names or their faces, but he can remember this feeling, the desperate desire to keep them alive.

"Queen to A-7!"

He was going to save them.

"Queen to A-4!"

_**He was going to win.** _

And the black king froze mid turn on its square, one away from Ron, as if it had just realized what Ron had projected three moves away. Ron lifted his hand, where a wand—his willow and unicorn tail hair companion for four years—suddenly materialized, his form poised before the tall dark monument, shaky, sweating yet determined.

"Checkmate."

Ron heard Snape say something but didn't catch it. His eyes instead remained glued on the black king, watching, waiting.

Then a crack formed on the crown, followed by another to the left, one to the right, before all three descended in a furious web of hissing and crunching, the king trembling when bolts of light came bursting from the fissures. Ron hissed, blocking the brightness with his free hand, but he remained standing with his wand aloft as the cracks grew larger until there was a loud bang and a cloud of dust.

"Bollocks!" Ron's eyes watered as he coughed and waved away all the dust. Snape from the side looked unperturbed for a few moments until the smoke cleared, then he inhaled sharply, loud enough for Ron to hear.

Then Ron saw it, what could have been a mass of glowing silver, opaque except for the bottom that flared into wisps of silk like tendrils of glitter. The figure was tall, easily towering over Ron, a few feet away from touching the ceiling but afloat two heads off the floor, with a humanoid form that appeared to be robed in long thick sleeves that ended just above hands with branch thin fingers. It had a head but without face, though for some reason Ron knew the apparition was staring at him.

**Rᴏɴᴀʟᴅ. Bɪʟʟɪᴜs. Wᴇᴀsʟᴇʏ.**

It didn't need a mouth to speak either, it seemed, with a voice soft yet booming like blanketed rumbling thunder over each word.

Ron fidgeted in awe over the imposing figure, aiming his newly materialized wand as steadily as he could. "Who— _what_ are you?"

There was a chuckle, and the silver wisp's head bent forward towards Ron, who remained glued in his spot. **Wʜᴏ ɪɴᴅᴇᴇᴅ? Tʜᴏᴜ ʜᴀsᴛ ᴍᴀɴʏ ɴᴀᴍᴇs ғᴏʀ ᴜs, sᴏ Sᴇᴠᴇʀᴜs Sɴᴀᴘᴇ sᴀʏᴇᴛʜ.** A bony yet surprisingly warm hand brushed over Ron's forehead. **Fᴀᴛᴇ. Tɪᴍᴇ. Gᴏᴅ. Mᴀɢɪᴄ. Dᴇᴀᴛʜ.**

The manner of speaking felt so ancient and regal, it took a while to make sense on top of Ron trying to hear over the roaring in his ears. "You're…It?"

The faceless head tilted left for a moment before leaning back, as if satisfied, and Ron let out a breath of relief. **Tʜᴏᴜ ʜᴀsᴛ ᴅᴇғᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴜs ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴀʀᴠᴇᴅ ᴛʜɪɴᴇ ᴏᴡɴ ᴘᴀᴛʜ. Tʜʏ ᴘᴀᴛʜ ɪs ɴᴏᴛ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴀs ғᴀᴛᴇᴅ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪᴛ ɪs ᴛʜɪɴᴇ ɴᴏɴᴇᴛʜᴇʟᴇss. As ʟᴏɴɢ ᴀs ᴛʜᴏᴜ ᴛʜʏ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʜᴏɪᴄᴇs ᴍᴀᴋᴇsᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏɴsᴇǫᴜᴇɴᴄᴇs ᴛʜᴏᴜ sʜᴀʟᴛ ғᴀᴄᴇ.**

"Err, thanks?" Ron really had no idea what to say to that. Beside him, he could have sworn he heard a slap and Snape mutter something like, "Idiot."

 **Iᴛ ɪs ɴᴏᴛ ᴛʜʏ ғᴀᴛᴇ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴛᴜʀɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜs. Iɴ ᴛʜʏ ʀᴇᴀʟᴍ, ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀsᴛ sᴛɪʟʟ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ. Bᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴏᴜ ʜᴀsᴛ ᴄʜᴏsᴇɴ ᴛᴏ sᴀᴠᴇ ᴛʜɪɴᴇ ᴋɪɴ. Tʜᴇ ɴᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ʜᴀs ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇᴅᴛʜ, ᴀs ɪᴛ ʜᴀᴛʜ ʙᴇᴇɴ ғᴏʀ sᴏᴍᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀs. Wᴇ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴇsᴇ ғʟᴀᴡs ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʟᴀɴ ᴛᴏ sᴇᴛ ʀɪɢʜᴛ. Rᴇsᴛᴏʀᴇᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴘᴇʀ ᴏʀᴅᴇʀ, ᴊᴜᴅɢᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡʜᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅɪᴠɪɴᴇ ᴏɴᴇɴᴇss ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ sᴏᴜʟ ʜᴀᴛʜ ʙᴇsᴍɪʀᴄʜᴇᴅ,** continued It. **Bᴜᴛ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴛʜᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴏɴᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ʜᴀsᴛ ᴄʜᴏsᴇɴ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴛᴜʀɴ, ᴀs ᴏᴘᴘᴏsᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇʏᴏɴᴅ. Aɴᴅ ᴏғ ʜɪᴍ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴏᴜ, ᴛʜʏ ᴄʜᴏɪᴄᴇ ɪs ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴜɴʜᴇᴀʀᴅ ᴏғ. Hᴇɴᴄᴇғᴏʀᴛʜ, ᴡʜʏ ᴛʜᴏᴜ ʜᴀsᴛ ғᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ғᴏʀ ɪᴛ, ᴀɢᴀɪɴsᴛ ᴜs. Aɴᴅ ᴀɢᴀɪɴsᴛ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪs, ᴛʜᴏᴜ ʜᴀsᴛ ᴡᴏɴ.**

**Tʜᴜs ᴡᴇ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴇᴛʜ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴇ, ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴀs ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴡʜᴏ ᴛʀɪᴜᴍᴘʜᴇᴅ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ, ᴛʜʏ ᴘʀɪᴢᴇ ᴄᴏɴғᴇʀᴇᴛʜ."Ron needed a moment to process what he heard, then another just to be sure.**

"But wait, isn't the prize the back door? Err, that is what I've been hoping to get. N—not that, m—maybe it was wrong, or—great, maybe it's not what I thought it was going to be, I mean, bollocks, I really don't get anything—"

 **Tʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴏʀ ɪs ᴛʜʏ ᴘᴀᴛʜ.** It cut in smoothly in a way that could make everything cease just because It said so. **Tʜʏ ᴘʀɪᴢᴇ ʜᴏᴡᴇᴠᴇʀ, ɪs ᴛʜʏ ᴄʜᴏɪᴄᴇ: ᴡᴇᴀʟᴛʜ, ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ, ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍs, ғᴀɴᴛᴀsʏ. Tʜᴇʀᴇ ɪs ɴᴏ ʟɪᴍɪᴛ, ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛᴀᴋᴇsᴛ ʜᴇᴇᴅ. Mᴀɴʏ ᴀ ʙʟɪɴᴅ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ʜᴀᴛʜ ғᴀʟʟᴇɴ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴄʜᴏᴏsɪɴɢ ᴘᴏᴏʀʟʏ.**

The figure then opened a hand, and suddenly the air around them was sang with such power that made Ron's very soul stand on end.

**Nᴏᴡ, ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪs ᴛʜɪɴᴇ, ᴛʜᴏᴜ ᴡʜᴏ ʜᴀsᴛ Dᴇᴀᴛʜ ʙᴇsᴛᴇᴅ?**

* * *

_It…can't be serious._

Ron blinked once, even subtly pinched his leg, just to be sure that this wasn't some dream brought about by a too full belly. No, It was still there, floating solid, and so was this strange near exact re-enactment of the Deathly Hallows tale, from how Death showed up after Ron overcame the chess game to the offer for a prize after defeating It.

 _But then the prizes weren't really prizes, were they?_ Ron thought hard on what he remembered on that tale that still followed him here. The three brothers defeated Death and were given items based on what they asked for, which then made up the legendary Hallows. But out of the three, only one managed to truly escape from Death, because he chose the cloak. No, that wasn't it—the third brother didn't escape Death, but merely delayed It. The third brother only took off the Invisibility Cloak after attaining "a great age" and went to Death as if they were old friends.

The Ron back then would have also chosen the Elder Wand, because it would have made him powerful, a somebody, but the Ron now knew better.

Hermione was right, the Elder Wand was more trouble than its worth, as was unchecked power. It was what drove Voldemort to start this whole war, as well as other dark lords. Even Albus Dumbledore, based on Aberforth's story, had been lead astray by his pride and ambition.

The first brother chose the power to match Death, and that power turned on him. The second brother chose to defy death, and his defiance drove him to madness. But the third brother, because he knew that he could not escape or overcome Death, he just made sure that he had time to live his life until he was ready. He chose the power to protect himself from Death. And if that power could be used upon others, the way Harry would use the cloak to cover all three of them…

"The truth is, I wanted to go back at first, because I wanted to live. I didn't like how my life turned out, or how much I screwed up. I thought if I could go back, I could change all that and maybe, finally, I can be somebody. Sure I wanted to save those who died, but, at first it was so that I can be a hero for once," Ron paused. "But then I realized that if I went back thinking that, chances are I would have screwed up all over again. Because I haven't changed, I would be making the same mistakes. I'd still be only thinking about me. But it's not just about me anymore.

"It doesn't matter if I'll always be second best, or least loved. Just like it didn't matter to Harry that he was going to die young without ever getting to live free of Voldemort," The fact will forever hurt, Ron was sure of it. But he was also sure of what he was going to say. "Harry died for us. He died to protect us. But that's not right with me. I'm not going to take that because Harry, along with everyone else who died in this stupid war, deserves a chance to live their lives until they're ready to meet You the same way the third brother did."

There weren't marks for eyes on It's head, so Ron settled for glaring at whatever his blue eyes can reach. "You said I made my path, right? Well I'm going back, but I'm gonna do it to keep everyone safe. Nothing escapes You, but I can keep them from You a little longer. I…I don't know how but I'm gonna work on it. I'll learn, I'll work hard. I might botch up but I'll keep at it and give it my all.

"So, if I'll have to pick a prize, if the third brother wanted the Invisibility Cloak then I choose something to help me remember You, and become one!"

The floating It raised a finger to its head, as if tapping its chin, an agonizing quiet passed before It spoke again. **Tʜᴏᴜ ʜᴀsᴛ ᴄʜᴏsᴇɴ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ? Pᴏᴡᴇʀ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴛʜᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇsᴛ, ʏᴇᴛ ᴛʜʏ ᴄʜᴏɪᴄᴇ ɪs…ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ…**

"A very good friend of mine," The memory of their first—their only—kiss flashed in Ron's mind and it took everything he had to squelch the longing for Hermione. "She once said that the Elder Wand, that much power, Is more trouble than it is worth. I just need enough…enough to protect them. I'm not the hero…and it took this stupid game for me to see…that I can be OK with that."

 **Wɪsᴇ, ᴛʜʏ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅ ɪɴᴅᴇᴇᴅ.** Ron could somehow feel that the floating figure was actually _smiling_. **Aɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴇsɪʀᴇsᴛ ᴡɪsᴅᴏᴍ. Bᴇ ᴡᴀʀɴᴇᴅ, 'ᴛɪs ɪs ᴀ ʙɪᴛᴛᴇʀ ғʀᴜɪᴛ. Is ᴛʜᴏᴜ ғᴏʀ ɪᴛ ᴘʀᴇᴘᴀʀᴇᴅ?**

"If what I've learned up to this point can help me save everyone, even Harry." _Especially Harry._ Ron's blue eyes were hard. "This is my choice."

Death's body jerked up and, in a blink, was suddenly right back up Ron's face. **Sᴏ sʜᴀʟᴛ ɪᴛ ʙᴇ.**

The silver wraith waved its hand, and Ron had to shield his vision when a bright, thumping light emanated from the air in its grasp. Sounds of cracking roared in his ears along with rushing wind and Death's deep voice.

**Kɴᴏᴡᴇsᴛ ᴛʜɪs, ᴡᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ sᴇᴇᴋᴇᴛʜ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏʟʟᴇᴄᴛ sᴏᴜʟs sᴏ ɢʀᴇᴇᴅɪʟʏ. Tʜᴏᴜ ᴀʟʟ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢs ᴛᴏ ᴜs; ᴛᴏ ʜᴀsᴛᴇɴ ᴛʜɪɴᴇ ʀᴇᴛᴜʀɴ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ Bᴇʏᴏɴᴅ, ᴏғ ɴᴏ ᴍᴇᴀɴɪɴɢ. A ɴᴏʙʟᴇ ɢᴏᴀʟ ᴛʜᴏᴜ ʜᴀsᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ ғᴏʀ Us, ᴏғ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴇsᴛ. A ᴄʜᴀʟʟᴇɴɢᴇ, ᴛʜᴜs, ɪғ ᴛʜᴏᴜ sʜᴀʟᴛ ᴛʜɪɴᴇ ǫᴜᴇsᴛ ғᴜʟғɪʟʟ. Wʜᴀᴛ, sᴀʏᴇᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ, ᴡɪʟʟ ᴄᴏᴍᴇᴛʜ ᴏғ ᴛʜɪɴᴇ ᴄʜᴏsᴇɴ ᴘᴀᴛʜ?**

Death drew back to cup in both hands the light that had slowly taken shape: cylindrical, thick and long as a palm, glinting metallic sapphire, a bird etched on it with luminous silver, wings spread wide and tail feathers resembling jagged lightning. The object then drifted forward for Ron to take, and it settled into Ron's outstretched hands.

**Tʜᴏᴜ ɪs ғᴀʀ ғʀᴏᴍ ғᴀᴜʟᴛʟᴇss—sᴜᴄʜ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴏғ ᴍᴏʀᴛᴀʟs—ʙᴜᴛ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴄʜᴀɴɢɪɴɢ, ᴇᴠᴇɴ ɴᴏᴡ. Tʜᴇ ᴘᴀᴛʜ ᴏғ ᴛʜɪs ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ʜᴀᴛʜ ʙᴇᴇɴ sᴇᴛ, ᴛᴏ ɪᴛs ᴡᴇᴀᴠᴇs ɪʀʀᴇᴠᴏᴄᴀʙʟʏ ʙᴏᴜɴᴅ. Hᴏᴡᴇᴠᴇʀ, ᴀʟʟ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅs, ʙʏ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴅs, ᴀʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ. Aᴍᴏɴɢsᴛ ᴛʜᴇᴍ, ᴡᴏʀʟᴅs ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴛʜᴏᴜ ʜᴀsᴛ ʏᴇᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ. Oғ ɴᴏᴛᴇ, ɪᴛ ɪs ɴᴏᴛ ᴇɴᴛɪʀᴇʟʏ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀʟᴍ ᴛʜᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡᴇsᴛ. Tʜᴇ ᴘɪᴇᴄᴇs, sᴀᴍᴇ, ʏᴇᴛ ᴀʟsᴏ ɴᴏᴛ. Eᴠᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏsᴛ ᴍɪɴɪsᴄᴜʟᴇ ᴏғ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴅs, ᴄᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴀᴘᴇsᴛʀʏ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇᴛʜ.**

"Err, sorry, what?"

"It means," said Snape from behind Ron. "That the back door will not necessarily reverse time of this world but instead send you to a similar one, most likely one where you are yet to be born. In order words, it is something akin to a rebirth. But will his memories remain intact?"

 **Nᴏᴛ ᴀᴛ ᴏɴᴄᴇ.** Said It. **Mᴀʏʜᴀᴘ, ɪɴ ғʀᴀɢᴍᴇɴᴛs ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡʜᴏʟᴇ ʙɪɴᴅᴇᴛʜ. Assᴜʀᴇᴅʟʏ, ᴛʜᴇ ғʀᴜɪᴛs ᴏғ Rᴏɴᴀʟᴅ's sᴏᴜʟ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜɪs ʟɪғᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴄᴀʀʀɪᴇᴅᴛʜ ғᴏʀᴛʜ, ᴀs ɪs ʜɪs ʙᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛ. Tʜᴇ ғʟᴀsᴋ ᴏғ ʟɪɢʜᴛ ɪs ᴘʀᴏᴏғ.**

Ron turned over the metallic object in his hand, lifting it for further inspection when he managed to open the lid. It looked just like… "The Deluminator?"

 **Tʜʏ ᴛᴇsᴛ ɪs ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ. Tʜʏ ǫᴜᴇsᴛ, ᴄʟᴇᴀʀ. Aɴᴅ ɴᴏᴡ…** Death moved aside. **Tʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴏʀs.**

Ron lifted his eyes, and the massive stone double doors in front of him cracked open. The light that went streaming out of it was oddly warm and comforting.

"Snape…" Ron turned to his old Potions professor, who looked surprised at being acknowledged. "Professor, I…thank you. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have made it halfway through all this."

"Don't sell yourself short, Weasley. I must admit, you were every bit the formidable chess player Minerva believed you were. It would be a waste if you did not learn anything from this experience to extend your capabilities beyond the chess board."

"It's not that I can half ass my way around, not after this. I promised, didn't I?" Ron shrugged. "And, I guess I just wanted to say, you're not half bad. Maybe since Harry's mum and you are both on the other side, maybe you can sort things out now? Just try not to be a hot-headed git to Harry's dad and the other Marauders. Take it from me, it won't get you anywhere."

Snape's lips curled into, much to Ron's surprise, a ghost of a smile. "If it can be of any assistance, I would advise you to remember about being a Prewett."

That threw Ron for another loop. "Err, obviously, that's mum's side of the family."

"Then keep it in mind," said Snape. "For all you know, you can, _inherit_ , something from it."

Ron raised an eyebrow. "What are you—?"

 **Rᴏɴᴀʟᴅ Wᴇᴀsʟᴇʏ.** Death's hand was on his shoulder, and Ron felt like some other force was gently pulling him to the light beyond the doors.

"W, wait! Can…can I ask one more thing?" Ron fidgeted before meeting Death's eyeless gaze. "You said earlier, I think, that there was someone else, like me, who chose to go back instead of staying dead. Was it…someone I know?"

 **Iɴᴅᴇᴇᴅ.** It lifted a finger to Its temple and drew a sliver of luminous white. **A ᴛᴏᴋᴇɴ ᴏғ ᴏᴜʀ ᴇsᴛᴇᴇᴍ, ᴛʜᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ʜᴀᴠᴇᴛʜ. Cᴇɴᴛᴜʀɪᴇs ʜᴀᴛʜ ɪᴛ ʙᴇᴇɴ, sɪɴᴄᴇ ᴀ ᴄʜᴀʟʟᴇɴɢᴇ sᴜᴄʜ ᴀs ᴛʜᴇᴇ.**

The strand of white burst.

**Oddly muted both in color and sound, but definitely it was King's Cross.**

" **Harry…" Albus Dumbledore, robed in pure white, smiling with pride and utmost affection. "Harry, you wonderful boy. You brave, brave man…"**

" **The true master does not seek to run away from Death. He accepts that must die…that there are far, far worse things in the living world than dying."**

" **I've got to go back, haven't I?" Harry asked Dumbledore who smiled. "That is up to you."**

**...**

" **He is dead!" Narcissa Malfoy, above the figure of Harry Potter, broken and slumped on the ground, amidst the cheering of the Dark Lord's followers. So ardent in their celebration they missed the slightest rising and falling of the teen's chest.**

" **You will carry him!" The gloating Dark Lord commanded with barely contained glee. "Pick up your little friend Hagrid!"**

" **Harry Potter is dead. He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself…We bring you his body as proof…"**

" **NO!" Hermione's scream of grief followed by Ginny's. "Harry! _HARRY!_ "**

**...**

**Chaos erupted so suddenly, so swiftly, with the arrival of Grawp and the arrows of the centaurs. Just as swiftly, Neville drew from the Sorting Hat the Sword of Gryffindor, and with one sweep, cut off Nagini's head.**

**And the world froze at a yell, "PROTEGO!" the rumpling sound of the Invisibility Cloak being thrown off, and the cheers of hope and jubilee, "HE'S ALIVE!"**

" **You won't be killing anyone else tonight," said the very much alive Harry Potter, confidence oozing out of his very being that can only come from knowing, understanding, at long last.**

**"Try…Try for some remorse…"**

**...**

" **AVADA KEDAVRA!"**

" **EXPELLIARMUS!"**

**A cannon blast bang, a ripple of silence, and just like that, Voldemort spun, mouth agape, his empty shell toppling to the floor.**

**The sun rose steadily over Hogwarts, as did the Wizarding World's euphoria of victory.**

" **Harry! Harry! Harry!"**

"Harry…Harry…you did it…" Ron's eyes misted with tears, hands tight on both the Deluminator and his wand, and a hand pushed him to the waiting light of the double doors.

It was Harry. For some miraculous reason, Harry, who Ron saw die through the chess game, was given a chance to return like him. To be the hero of the Wizarding World, just as he had always meant to be. And now, he really is the Boy Who Lived. Ron briefly thought (and hoped) that maybe this too was part of Dumbledore's plan.

_Harry, you lucky sod, you have no idea how happy I am for you. Now go and live the life like you're supposed to. Take care of everyone. Thank you, for being my friend._

**Fᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴇ ᴡᴇʟʟ, Rᴏɴᴀʟᴅ Wᴇᴀsʟᴇʏ.**

Blue eyes closed over a stream of tears. _I love you all._

The world was drowned in white.

* * *

Oh my Lord, archaic English is a bloody pain to write! But at least that's over with…(for now. What, did you think that's the last we'll see of It? Of course not!)

So I'm on vacation and I've been hit by an urge to binge on fanfic writing. This chapter was years in the making because researching chess battles, archaic English and going over all the books all over again had been tiring. But overall, I'm proud of how this chapter turned out. Pretty long, but seeing as I haven't updated in ages, is the length justifiable?

About my Ron: he will still have his faults, like being a hot head and dense. But he's, like Death said, ever changing. This experience gave him a kick in the right direction, and I'm hoping that this will be a good foundation for him being a more serious character who can make use of his intellect and practical skills. There's also issues regarding his self esteem (they will be with him all throughout) but we'll get to that.

About pairings: I'm going to get this out in the open so you guys know what you'll be getting into with this fic. I have two viable options for both Ron and Harry but haven't decided on any yet. Quite frankly after the Wizarding War introductory arc, I will be slowly but surely deviating from canon, so please don't tell me that whatever I'm writing is not in or how it was in the books because I know. 

(And apparently, I cannot stress this enough.) 

The **confirmed** ships are **Neville/Luna, Percy/Penelope, Bill/Fleur, Sirius/Remus, James/Lily.** If any one of them bothers you, feel free to leave quietly. We all have our preferences. Flaming me won't change mine. But if you're cool with this, then let's party. XD

If you've reached this far, thank you so much. Please tell me what you think, because reviews are my way of knowing that I'm doing it right and that it's worth continuing this (I hope so, because I really love the idea). See you in the next chapter!

It will come, I promise. *pinky swear*

UP NEXT: Ron wakes up, shorter, shriller and confused as hell. But Ron doesn't have the time to stay out of sorts. He has a mission, a world to save...and a party to attend? 


End file.
